


affairs with a magician are rather odd

by scionofthelongproject



Series: magic and might [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Arrow (TV 2012) - Freeform, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Play, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Frottage, General au, Intercrural Sex, Light Bondage, Multi, Pegging, Praise Kink, Shower Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scionofthelongproject/pseuds/scionofthelongproject
Summary: It's been eight months since he was broken out of Lian Yu and met Zatanna Zatara, and five months of freefalling into the sea of uncertainty and unknown feelings.And Slade Wilson is without a raft.





	1. magic, his mistress

**Author's Note:**

> Don't even ask when I started shipping this. I was working all of the sudden one day and thought: "WHAT IF?"  
> I haven't watched season three or four of Arrow, so don't shoot me if something is noncanon. Any questions about backstory will either be answered/addressed in another chapter.

The show goes as well as it could; as she steals the target’s attention in the main parlor for his campaign, he goes through the computer files and steals the information that she told him to grab, as well as blackmail for insurance. He’s able to catch the beginning of the end of the show as he sneaks back into the crowd, the sway of her hips alluring him in. Even though he knows how the trick works, or rather, how her magic works, it still awes him. Her smile dazzles, distracting everyone from seeing the slight spark of magic behind her back. She doesn’t even need magic to use sleight of hand; he can remember the theft of his wallet in their first meeting, hands too distracting to keep track of what she was doing.

A beep shrills in his ear, letting him know that the hologuise was low on battery, and he gnashes his teeth, feeling slight irritation that such a high tech device is so power consuming. Every step away is hurried, desperate to get out before Star City’s finest see that Slade Wilson is in the same room as them, yet he hates that he can’t stay and watch her final act.

* * *

He waits down five blocks and three to the right, their agreed upon location. He taps his fingers along the steering wheel, a second apart. At 480 taps, Slade starts to get antsy, his mind coming up with terrible images of what could’ve-

“Open up!”

If it was any other voice, there would be a hole in the window and a dead body on the pavement. But it isn’t, and he swallows as Zatanna gets into the car. “I thought I did pretty good,” She says, speaking to herself more than anyone else. “Not one of them noticed.” After a second, she turns and winks at him. “Well, except for you.”

The blush crawling up his neck from getting caught watching is hard to ignore, but iron will pushes him on. “Just making sure that you were alright.” It's a lie, a huge lie, but Slade has lied too many times to be unsure of his credibility.

The pause afterwards makes his heart slam in his chest, only to be quieted by her giggle. “Aww, well, thanks.”

The car comes to life, revving up before they're flying down the main highway through Star City. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her leaning against the window, looking up in wist. He's sure the lights remind her of Gotham, of better times before her best friend was gone. The bitter hatred of the fact that he hasn't been able to do anything to soothe her worries eats his heart raw.

As they leave the hopeful lights behind, he decides to speak up. “We’ll find him, Zatanna. It's hard to kill a man like Bruce Wayne.”

“I know, I know, I just…” The trembles in her voice can't hide from him. “Grayson won't talk to anyone except Joey, Tim’s thrown himself into work, and Damien refuses to believe Bruce has been taken.” The countryside listens with silence as they cruise down the road. “Cassandra is carrying on as usual with Steph. Barbara took up a job with her father, and Jason...well, you know.”

Slade knows, Slade knows of the fits of rage that has Jason exploding towards his teammates and friends. The walls between Rose’s room and his are not exactly thin, but they are not thick enough to cover Koriand’r’s crying or Roy’s own rageful rants. The stress of it all has weighed down on Rose herself, being so close to the Wayne family as a whole, and after a small argument, she accepted a break to her mother’s island with the Earth-3 Oliver Queen. Joseph opted to stay behind to support Dick Grayson in Gotham and research for Team Arrow when needed. And Slade?

Slade is just doing what he could to stay close to Zatanna.

Never would he rise to Rose’s flames of teasing about his interest in what Zatanna was doing; most people thought of him as emotionless, no ties to anything, even his children. Even those who knew he loved Rose and Joseph with all his heart thought him to be devoid of all romance, what with his rampage for Shado. For all the people around him who were self proclaimers of being good at reading people, only Rose knew his true feelings; even then, he never gave her satisfaction of being right.

“We’ll find him,” He repeats, gripping the steering wheel tight. “I promise you that.”

She gathers her legs to her chests, wrapping her arms around her knees. It’s a movement of vulnerability, showing her weakness to him. It tugs at his heart, and the feeling triggers something akin to Rose’s laugh in his mind.

“I hope so.” 

* * *

The house has been quiet ever since Rose left, so the absence of light is a comfort rather than a worry. The alarms are easy enough to disarm as they walk through, and easy enough of a distraction to not watch Zatanna shrug out of her tailcoat. It’s just her unitard and fish net stockings on as he turns from taking off his boots, and it takes every cell in his body to stay calm and not bolt up the stairs. “I’ll be heading to bed then.”

A strangled sound emits from her, filling the whole room with sorrow and dread. It's a sound he's never heard yet can identify from the first note.

The sound of absolute desolation.

There's no passage of time; he's from the stairs to her in the next second, catching her in his arms as she crumples into a sobbing heap.

It's not that he's been waiting for this moment; no, he's been dreading it since the moment Grayson came and voiced his concerns. He's been dreading her shoulders faltering, her voice wavering, because he knows she doesn't want to. Zatanna prides herself on being the mother figure to all Titans, and every day she spends trying to keep her composure to make sure that none of them see her weak.

The fabric of his shirt is wet after only a few seconds of her crying. As gently as he can, Slade leads them to the couch, sitting on the end so she can have room to move. It's wasted, as she'd rather cling to him. “Just hold me,” She whispers with cracked desperation; it's all he can do to not cry himself as she weeps in his arms. 

* * *

It's a delicate touch to the sliver of scar showing from his eyepatch that wakes him. A turn of his head shows that it's still nighttime, and Zatanna sits back on her heels, hand on his cheek still. “Sorry,” She whispers with a tinge of guilt. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not now,” He admits. “It aches sometimes, mostly on cold days. Right now, it's just sensitive.”

Even as he speaks, she continues to trace down his face. It's intimacy he's never experienced before, stirring something inside that is foreign to him. On one hand, he should say something, anything, to get her to stop because she'll regret this, he knows she'll regret this. On the other, he hasn't had tender touches like this in a long time, not since Lili. “It's been a thought in my head,” She says, interrupting his own thoughts. “You're so different than the other Deathstroke. So…” Her lips purse as she tries to find a word. “...unpredictable.”

The feeling of being lost at sea once again consumes him, feeling the uncharted waters that she was having them enter. “Would you rather someone who was?”

“No,” She says rather simply. “I like unpredictable.” She half-shrugs, caressing down to his neck. “I like surprises.”

With one sharp movement, he grabs her wrist away from him. “Surprises?” He starts studying the spot below his hold and follows her arm up, noting the smoothness of her skin, the small and few scars from her own vigilantism and the goosebumps that rise as he runs his fingers along the inside of the forearm. When he looks up at her after so long, she's biting her lip, eyes wide with anticipation. Instead of pulling her down to kiss her like she wants, like she expects, Slade turns her and rubs at her shoulders. The irritated huff that comes from her is just one small victory for him that he was sure would lead to more.

“Do you want me to take off my shirt?” Zatanna asks, coy smile peeking out from her black curls. “Would it be easier?”

For once in his recent life, he's afraid of consequences, afraid of heading into these waves without something to hold onto. He swallows as she sighs, choosing to undo the buttons herself. At halfway, she pulls her arms out of the holes and shoves it down, baring her back. “There. But now you have to take something off,” She teases.

Thoughts, concepts, barely formed words breeze through his mind as she turns and lifts up his shirt. He's trying, really trying, to not look down at her naked chest but it's so hard when she's mashed against his stomach and staring at him with lustful eyes. “Zatanna, you don't-”

“Want this?” She sits up, sighing. “And here I thought you were unpredictable.”

“You'll regret it,” He chides.

Her eyes narrow to slits. “Slade Wilson, I am getting tired of this tension between us. Either we go our separate ways or we fuck.”

At the last word, he groans. Hearing it fall from her lips, dirty and lascivious, makes his hesitation break. He pulls her down again, revelling in her surprised squeak. “Well, when you put it that way…”

She doesn't need another word; she's already pressing their lips together, pulling his shirt off the rest of the way. Her lips are sweet, fruity and spicy, like a dessert lovers share by a fire, an addictive taste from the first second. He finishes the rest of the button on her unitard and throws it on the ground. “Sit up for me,” Slade rumbles, and Zatanna does, crouching over him like the naughtiest angel that broke out of Heaven. Her breasts are heavy, nipples rosy, hard from the slight breeze in the house. The fishnets wrap around her waist and down her thighs, leaving her folds bare. “Fucking hell, woman.”

Her lips upturn in a smile, basking in her own victory, well earned if he has anything to say about it. “Like what you see?”

“You're goddamn right I do,” He growls, sitting up to capture one of those tantalizing peaks between his teeth and press their hips together. His tongue dances around her nipple, teasing around it before nibbling at the nub.

She's shuddering in his arms before pulling at his shoulder. “Need to get upstairs.” Despite her words, she pulls him up for more kisses, distracting him from moving on. After a dangerous kiss at the meeting of his neck and shoulder, he stands up, still holding onto her; any longer and they'd be stranded on the couch, unable to move. “Damn,” She breathes, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I knew you were strong, but…”

Pride surges through his system, causing him to tease her. “Like what you see?”

“Nope.” She kisses him again, sucking on his lower lip before letting it go with a pop, sending more blood rushing to his half-hard cock. “I love what I see.”

The mischievous sparkle in her eyes makes his breath stutter, and his heart stops for a second. _Why did I take so long to do this?_   flies through his mind as he presses their foreheads together.

A smile graces her lips, lighting up her face for the first time in months. “So the animal has a soft side.”

He scoffs as they climb the stairs. “Animal?” He presses her against the wall, nipping at her neck and squeezing her ass, savoring the feeling. “I could show you an animal.”

Zatanna laughs, trailing off into a heady moan. “Could you now?” The words are meaning to provoke him, play into her teasing hands.

“Depends. Which side are you wanting?”

Her bright icy eyes sparkle, amusement written all over her face. “Surprise me,” She whispers into his ear, tracing her tongue along the shell of his ear.

Surprise her? The nerve of her surprises _him_. Her boldness keeps amazing him, with every suggestive grin and the wild look in her eyes. “You don't make anything easy, do you?”

“Never.”

He continues to carry her up the stairs, enjoying the way every step bumps him against her core and savoring the warmth before it moves away. Slade’s imagination runs away from him and she half-giggles, half-gasps at the feeling of his cock throbbing against her mound. “Sorry,” He rasps, and with his back to her bedroom door, he kicks it open.

“My bedroom?”

“Surprised?” As he sits on the bed, he grinds up against her, grinning as her breathing hitches. “Alright, sweetheart, have me as you will. Anything you want.”

For the first time, she looks lost in this ocean she has led them through, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes as she gets up. “Anything?”

He thinks for a second, watching as she gets up and goes through the top drawer. “Mostly anything,” Slade says. Metal flies through the air and he catches it. As he dangles them in his hand, Slade muses over the humor of a magician owning handcuffs. “Performing a magic trick for me?”

The pace she crawls up him at is painstakingly slow, the most delicious tease he's ever had. “Unless you know a trick to get out of handcuffs without dislocating your thumb, there's no magic tricks to be had.” Handcuffing him requires her to lean over his head, and Slade does some teasing of his own by nipping at the underside of her breast. With a giggle, Zatanna leans back, proud of her work. “You did say anything.”

Testing the handcuffs leads to no yield. “I did,” He admits, not in the least unhappy with the result. “Now what?”

The friction of her hand rubbing the visible ridge in his pants sparks a fire in him. “Well, first, we have to take these off,” She lilts, pulling down both pants and boxers and leaving him exposed. A small gasp escapes her mouth when she sees his length throbbing, a bead of precome pooling at the tip. Her eyes widen, her only focus being on his cock and a hiss escapes him as she takes it in hand, stroking it with the gentlest touch. Warm lips wrap around the head and the sight of her looking up at him with her mouth around his dick is enough to send a rush of ecstasy throughout his body.

“Fuck,” Slade swears, pulling at his handcuffs without even thinking. The cold steel pulls at his wrists, contrasting with the slick warmth of her mouth, and all he wants to do is run his hands through her silk-like locks. She hums, shaking her finger at him, and he groans from the vibration of it. It's torture, none like he's ever had before, and it's definitely the best he's ever been through. She bobs her head lower, swallowing his shaft down until her nose brushes against trimmed hair, and he doesn't notice how perfectly her ass is pushed up in the air until he tries to distract himself by looking up. It takes looking at the ceiling and counting backwards from one hundred to hold out because he has to, he has to hold onto the feeling of her tongue laving his cock like it was a treat and he refuses to come in her mouth like a fucking schoolboy. Her tongue follows the veins up and down before sucking at the swollen head. “Zee,” He bites out, because it wasn't a whine, definitely not a whine, Slade Wilson does not whine.

She giggles, like it's some cute thing she's doing and not making him the most aroused man in history, and pulls off, a strand of saliva stringing from her lips to the cockhead. It breaks when she licks her lips and it's a transition that doesn't let up on his madness.

“Come here.” At first, she hesitates from the growl in his voice, but the smirk on his face intrigues her. When she stops at his chest, he shakes his head. “No, sweetheart, on my face.” When she simply blinks, he sighs. “Let me put it this way: if you get that delicious cunt up here, I'll make it worth your while.”

A red blush spreads across her cheeks as she scrambles to crouch over his face. His tongue darts out to lick along her outer petals and she whimpers, pressing her hands against his bound ones. He savors the taste, tangy and sweet, before craning his head to get deeper. Tracing up, he teases at her clit, circling around it before wrapping his lips around and sucking. The shout he gets is another sweet victory and he dives into her wetness, sating his hunger for more. He curls his tongue into her and thrusts inside, a pale imitation of what he plans for her later. The feeling of her hands squeezing his accompanies the melodic sound of her moans and cries. She's close, thrashing and twisting in a personal erotic dance. A different kind of pleasure builds up, one that satisfies his carnal pride, and she screams as she falls apart above him, squeezing around his tongue.

After a few minutes of her shivering against the wall-not helped by his stray licks at her core-she crawls back down to straddle his waist, leaning forward to kiss him again.

When she pulls back, it's with an endearing look that twists his heart into a knot. With a grin, she sits up and he throws his head back at the engulfing warmth enveloping his cock as she lowers herself down. Both of them moan when she's fully seated, and he stops to focus on the sight of her; hair mussed up, strands over her shoulders and breasts; lips parted just enough to breathe; eyes half-lidded and filled with something that was more than just lust. It's a sight he never wants to forget, even if they part ways after this.

She bends to kiss him again, catching him off guard, and her fingers caress down his neck, a soft tickling feeling that leaves scorch marks wherever she touches. The sensation of her velvet heat makes him shudder, yearning to be swept into her waves. The rhythm is slow, her hips tantalizing, and she traces arcane runes on his chest with a dark red fingernail. He shifts his legs up and she lets out a cry before grinding down onto his cock.

Her skin glistens with sweat, leaving a pretty sheen, and it's irresistible to not lick and suck at her neck to see how her skin tastes in between the fiery kisses she gives him. With every second, she grows more frustrated until she finally whispers in a hoarse voice, “ _Kcolnu._ ” The handcuffs fall to the side, leaving his wrists free.

Slade doesn't need to hear what she needs; all he does is flip them and crush his lips against hers. He controls the tempo; slow and sensual, burying himself inside her to work the bundle of nerves that gets her to make sweet melodies. Arms wrap around his neck and she's pulling herself up for kisses, running fingers through his hair.

“Slade…” Her voice is wrecked from ecstasy, her lips swollen from their kissing. He twists a curl around his finger and palms her cheek, worshipping her as the goddess he sees her as. With a heady moan, she finds her release, scratching her nails down his back in an electrifying pleasure-pain.

The lust in her eyes is higher than before and she pulls him down, biting at his neck and shoulder. “Harder,” She rasps, and the sound of it travels straight to his groin.

“Zatanna, I-”

“Goddammit, Slade, I love you, but if you don't fuck me into oblivion, I will make your life hell.”

His mind shortwires, replaying her words over and over until the meaning fully sinks in, and he flips her over, grabbing a handful of her ass in fishnet. The glint of silver gives him an idea, one he's sure she'll enjoy. “Put your hands up against the bed frame.”

A shiver racks her spine and she listens, perking her ass up just to tease him. Years of training has her handcuffed to the bed within a second and he leans over to whisper in her ear. “And I love you, too.”

Timing is everything, and he waits until she looks back at him to drive into her heat so he can see her face.

The line between rough lovemaking and fucking is the difference between sky and sea, and he's careful to keep her wrapped in the oceans to prevent her feeling harsh winds. The hold on her hip as he pounds into her is gentle. He whispers praises and promises into her ear, intending to uphold them with his life. The kisses he presses against her shoulders leave no marks. But above all, he tells her he loves her, he's loved her since she gave back his wallet with a small pout, he's loved her since she saved his family, and he's loved her ever since she trusted him with her back; and even if he says none of these out loud, she can see the depth of his love.

Oh, she tries to say words, but she's lost, too lost to say anything back, so he slows down and drags her into the undertows again. All he can tell time with is the amount of times her back arches down as she mewls and moans, and after seven, he can't hold on any longer. “Zatanna-”

She turns to kiss him, pulling him over into the deep sea with her, and with a groan, he spills into her.

With a whisper of the same word before, the handcuffs unlock, falling behind the bed. He falls to the side, pulling her into his chest and caressing her cheek. She reaches up to cover his hand with hers, craning her head for a kiss.

The storm ceases, and it’s calm waters as their lips meet over and over. Finally, she pulls back and smiles. “I've wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Which part?”

She laughs, a sound that makes his heart warm over. With another kiss, she stares into his eye. “Saying that I love you. You don't have to say it much, I know you have a hard time with feel-”

It's his turn to kiss her, and he pulls her on top of him. “I will never stop telling you that I love you. I'll say it every minute if I have to.”

“Even in front of Oliver Queen?”

He pretends to think about it. “Which one?”

“Ours, not Joey's.”

Slade hisses and shakes his head. “That might be a deal breaker.”

At first, she thinks he's serious, but his facade breaks and he can't help but to smile as she giggles and nuzzles into his neck. Her breathing becomes even, and she hums as she snuggles in. “‘m cold.”

An exasperated sigh comes out of him as he reaches over and pulls a blanket off a nearby chair. “You're lucky you're so beautiful.”

Zatanna giggles and gives him another kiss before settling into his side. “Good night.”

He buries his nose into her hair, exhaling as he squeezes her. “Good night, sweetheart.”

* * *

The sound of footsteps tell him two things as he's awoken by them: one, the alarm is off and two, they're light, featherlike. Within only a few seconds, he has his pants on from last night. The footsteps pause outside Zatanna’s room, and just as quickly leave to go past.

If someone was to go back in time and tell his twenty-year-old self that all of his stealth training would be used in a single morning to avoid someone in his own house, he wouldn't think of a situation like this. He'd think of something more dire with more danger.

Not sneaking out of the woman he was in love with’s bedroom.

He knows all the boards in the floor that squeak, and he tiptoes over to his room. Looking down the hall, he opens the door as quiet as he can, and watches the hall until the door closes.

“And here I thought I was supposed to be the one sneaking around.”

If it wasn't Rose’s voice, he would be halfway across the room with a knife in hand. She sits there at his desk, Zatanna’s unitard hanging from her hand and cheeky grin on her face. “Tell me I was right.”

He rolls his eyes, practically seething inside at the fact that his daughter was so much like him. “Yes, Rose, you were right.”

“Good. Wake your girlfriend up, I'm making pancakes with banana drizzle like Mom used to make.” Rose tosses him the unitard as she leaves. “And put a fucking shirt on.”

He stands there, waiting to hear Rose's footsteps go downstairs before heading back into Zatanna’s room.

She’s sitting up, stretching before smiling at him. “Morning.”

He strides over, bending down to kiss her. “Morning, sweetheart. Rose is back.”

Zatanna groans, covering her face. “Did she-” Slade holds up the unitard and she sighs, brushing her hair back with her fingers. “I'm sorry, this probably isn't the way you wanted her to find out.”

He cups her face, shaking his head. “It doesn't matter. She still would've demanded to hear she was right. And besides…” He kisses her again. “I love you and I'm not hiding anything.”

“Tell that to the hologuise,” Zatanna teases as she gets up. “Mm, I don't have any comfy clothes here.”

He tries to avert his gaze from her ass as she gets on her tiptoes to look on the shelves. “I'll go get you something to wear.”

It doesn't take much time to find her something; he doesn't have that many clothes that won't look like she's swimming in them, and while he's in his room, he throws on a shirt to appease Rose. As he comes back into Zatanna’s room, she surprises him with a kiss and takes the clothes from his arms. “You're welcome to watch,” She says with a wink.

He pulls her head towards him to kiss her forehead. “If I stay and watch, we'll be here all morning and the pancakes will get cold.”

The sigh she makes is very much faked. “She's lucky I like pancakes.”

He leaves with her door closed, and as he heads down the stairs, the heavenly smell of Rose’s cooking hits him and finally, he realizes how much he's missed her.

Rose’s hair is pinned up, and for once in a long time, her shoulders are relaxed. “I'm thinking three each,” She murmurs, turning around to the table to look at Oliver. “What do you think?”

Oliver looks up from his book and shrugs. “I'll have at least five.”

She groans, throwing the spatula down. “You're such a glutton.”

“Yeah, but that's why you love me,” Oliver pouts, reaching around to pull Rose down for a kiss.

“No,” She corrects after the kiss. “I hate you to the bottom of my soul. We've been over this.” As she turns, Slade comes closer to inspect the pancakes. Rose flips them again and sighs. “Olive, if you dip your fingers in the sauce again, I'm smacking you in the face with this spatula.”

Slade leans to see Oliver righting himself, going back to reading, then looks back at the stove. “You're doing good, sweetie,” He reassures his daughter.

“I'm trying, it just…” She sighs, flipping one of the pancakes over to fully brown. “Going back there reminds me how much I'm not her.”

“Really?” Slade presses a kiss to her temple. “You remind me more of her each day.”

The words relax her and she smiles. “Thanks, Dad.”

He squeezes her shoulder and sits down opposite of Oliver. “Queen,” He greets.

“Wilson.” He throws down the book. “Find anything?”

“Maybe information.” Slade huffs, thinking about the overall mission for the first time since last night. “It's all encrypted; I'll have to send the files over to Joseph.”

Zatanna comes into the kitchen, covered in his baggy shirt and sweatpants. “Morning,” She chirps, passing the chair and instead spilling into Slade’s lap. “Breakfast smells good.”

“It's also ready!” Rose puts a plate of pancakes piled high on the table and sits down.

Everyone serves up, and as Slade takes a bite, he can taste Lili’s cooking in it, but he can also taste something sweeter. “Rose, what did you add?”

“Banana vodka.”

“Oh.”

There's a moment of silence before Oliver sits up. “So, Zatanna…”

She pauses before she takes a bite.

“Do you have to custom order that unitard? Because I've never seen one so ripped up.”

Slade throws down his fork, burying his head into his hand.

This will be a long morning.


	2. to worship magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His head is fuzzy, and all he can remember is worrying about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here, you made it through the first chapter, so good on you! Enjoy more plot and porn :3c

Silence from her is never good.  

Silence means she's not talking, and not talking means there's a chance she can't.

And not being able to talk is a bad thing for Zatanna.

He pulls against the chains hooked around the bench again, testing to see if they'll break for the fiftieth time. “Zatanna,” He hisses, praying to whatever deity he could that she was okay. He hasn't seen her since they were ambushed at Wayne Manor, and the force the assassin had hit her with is a cause for concern.

Slade Wilson is a very worried man.

He's also a very pissed off man, and knows exactly who's going to get his ‘one-kill-a-mission’ card. He pulls again before sighing and coming to the conclusion that he's going to have to take his last resort. With a grimace, he dislocates his thumb and slips out of the rusted metal. Righting it again is nothing, a scratch against a diamond, and as he hears footsteps, he wraps the chain around his wrist to imitate the binding.

A lone guard comes in, the perfect stroke of luck. “You're coming with me, Wilson. Merlyn wants to see you.”

The mention of Malcolm Merlyn makes Slade quirk his eyebrow, but it doesn't surprise him enough to distract from his goal. The guard bends and Slade springs, wrapping the chain around the guard’s neck, putting on enough pressure to stun but not choke. “Who was the one that knocked out Zatanna Zatara?”

“Chukel, second floor.” He struggles a bit, but Slade applies pressure to the carotid artery enough to push the guard into unconsciousness. A quick search gives him a handgun and keys, enough to get him and Zatanna out of here.

He can see her still body lying on the bench through the cell bars as he opens the door. The sight chills his blood, heart racing a thousand miles an hour, and all he does is swallow it down. The ability to freak out left him a long time ago, and he's not about to find it again at the most crucial moment.

She's breathing, but it's shallow and dry. His wrist grazes rough leather and he brushes her hair away from her neck, revealing a collar etched with arcane symbols. He curses under his breath as he undoes the clasp, throwing it into the corner of the room. Waiting for her to wake is dreaded seconds into minutes, and his heart only stops its incessant slamming when she starts to stir. She sits up, steadying herself against the wall, before noticing he was next to her. “What happened?”

“We were taken. Merlyn’s behind it. This collar had you under.”

He hands her the collar, watching her face contort into a pained look. “This is my father’s work,” She whispers after a moment, as if it's a confession. “It binds people into a deep sleep.” It's thrust into his hands once more as she gets up. “I can't hold this.” He has so many questions, but now’s not the time. A hiss comes out of her mouth as she stands and he catches her around her shoulders before pocketing the leather. “My ankle is swollen.”

He searches his memories and remembers the fall she had taken as the assassin had swung at her. “Sling your arm around me.” It’s obvious she's expecting him to help her along like a crutch, and she squeaks as he scoops her up into his arms.

There’s no noise whatsoever behind the door, a sign that the level they're on is bare. He opens it with care anyways, making sure Zatanna doesn't bump against anything.

The scenery outside tells him they're not in Gotham anymore, and the headstones and trees in the distance confirms that they're in Queen Manor. It's both a relief and a worry that someone took them halfway across the country to where they operate. The walls have changed since he was here last, and he feels a strange wave of regret from his deception before shaking it off.

No time for that now.

The tread down the hallway is filled with nothing but the sound of her breathing, and every bit of his soldier sense is screaming that something isn't right. When he peeks around a corner and sees a rather obvious camera in the opposite corner of the hall, everything clicks.

Merlyn wants them to know he knows they're out. He wants them to go and escape.

And there's a sneaking suspicion that he wants Oliver Queen to know.

Slade lets out a slow breath, one that Zatanna knows isn't good. “What's wrong?” She mouths, and he shakes his head, glowering at the ground, before storming around the corner to her protests. A small part of him, one influenced and fed by Rose’s behavior and personality, pushes an idea into his head, and as they pass the camera, he shoots it without breaking stride.

“What the hell, Slade?!”

“He knows, Zee. He wanted us to get out.”

The front door is right there, but Chukel is just one flight up and he grits his teeth, fighting through a wave of need to kill someone. _Next time,_ he promises himself as he slinks out the door, and as they disappear into the forest, Zatanna snuggles into his neck and he starts doubting he can keep that promise.

* * *

When they get home, he lets Zatanna take the floor as she tells Oliver over the phone what happened; he prefers to nurse down a decent glass of scotch to lick his wounds. Once he moves past the glass, he opts to start drinking out of the bottle. As he rakes his gaze over Zatanna’s scratches from the encounter, he takes a deep drink. He's losing his touch, and he doesn't know any other way to punish himself for it.

Rose comes up next to him. “Put the bottle down. You need to see this.” She hands him the laptop as she sits down, scrolling through many video files before clicking on a particular one. The backdrop of Wayne Manor fills the screen, timestamp reading just yesterday, and a hooded figure stalks by the corner of the manor and the garage. “The microphones Wayne set up can hear anything up to a mile away,” Rose informs him, turning up the volume slider.

“Surround them and wait for my signal.” It’s tinny, but there’s no mistaking it: that’s Merlyn’s voice.

He’s about to speak, but Rose holds her hand up. “Wait for it, it’s about to get good.” To Slade’s astonishment, he sees himself and Zatanna pass right by, just as Merlyn disappears. They walk a few feet forward, and from out of nowhere, eight members from the League of Assassins appear, and he watches as his memory catches up. Rose sighs as she closes out of the video and opens another folder full of images, stills of him and Zatanna on screen, but instead of being alone, there’s the eight Assassins following with Merlyn watching from the spot he disappeared in. “It was some sort of enchantment, according to Rae. Not entirely gone, but almost as if they’re...vibrating so fast, regular cameras can’t see them.” She leans back, shutting the laptop. “Lucky us Wayne installed high speed frame cameras. Guess it pays to be a billionaire.”

Slade grunts in agreement, still lost in his thoughts. He reaches for the bottle and Rose snatches it away just before he can grab it. “Lesson for you, dad of mine: beating yourself up over this is not going to help anything. Bruce Wayne himself wouldn't have been able to seen it coming. She's alive, you're alive, and that's all that matters.” She twists the cap back onto the bottle. “And don't drink in times of self doubt, or you'll end up doing stupid things.”

Slade narrows his eye, sensing a deeper story. “What kind of stupid things?”

She avoids his gaze, looking away. “There's a reason I apologize to Tim every time he stops by,” She mumbles before ducking away to talk to the Earth-3 Oliver Queen- _no, Jonas,_ he corrects within a second.

It’s apparently been a long headache of having to try to differentiate between the two Oliver Queens for everyone, the one from this dimension and the one from Joey’s dimension. So the story was told to him, after a long night of drinking between the group, John Diggle had come up with the idea of one of them going by their middle name, and with grace, the Earth-3 Oliver Queen had opted to go by Jonas. The only exception is Rose, with her nickname of ‘Olive’, but 'as Oliver never goes by the name and rather groans every time he hears it' according to Rose, it never causes confusion.

He shakes his head, half-curious in what she meant, half-dreading the answer. Zatanna comes over, limp gone from magical remedies. She slumps in the chair Rose was in and rubs her eyes. “Oliver knows. Rose already told him to install new cameras around the Cave, Thea’s apartment and his apartment.” A moment passes and she looks at him. “Do you still have-”

“I hid it. It's alright.” He drums his fingers on the table before looking over at her tired body. The weight of her father, of Doctor Fate, is weighing deep down on her. “Zee, we'll figure it out.” Zatanna nods, too tired to answer with anything more, opting to drag her chair over and lean into him. He wraps his arm around her, nosing into her hair. “Do you want me to draw you a bath?”

“Mm, I’d rather a shower.” She stands up, stretching before walking around the table and leaning over him to whisper in his ear. “And I'd rather you join me.”

A chill travels through his spine and he gets up to follow her before anyone can notice how affected he is.

* * *

She's already down to her panties and bra, white traced with salmon lace, when he comes in. A light fog of steam covers the room from the hot water pouring already. She has a wicked grin on her face, pressing him against the wall with a searing kiss that causes him to groan into her lips. Her hand presses against his cock through his pants, palming the thick length with graceful movements as she kisses down his cheek and across his shoulders. The other hand teases the hem of his shirt before pulling it up, slipping it off him with ease. “I think what we both need,” She whispers against the mid of his neck as she undoes his belt. “Is a long shower.” His hips buck against her hand, desperate for even a brush against it. Her chiming giggle is almost mocking as she pushes his pants down.

“You keep testing me, you won't be able to walk straight tomorrow,” Slade rumbles, fists clenching to stop from moving.

“I’d like to see you try.”

The challenge is issued as far as he’s concerned, and it takes a second for the realization to spark in her eyes to show up. It’s one fluid movement as he twists them around and shoves her front against the wall. “Now stay there.”

The first thing he does is kneel to worship her curves, kissing up her thighs and the round of her ass while pulling her panties down at a painstaking tempo. “It’s a lovely color on you. Frames your ass quite nicely.”

A shiver racks her body, and he can feel it pulse through her. Slade looks up and sees her biting her lip, anticipation etched onto her face. There’s something about it that niggles at his conscious and thinking about it for one more second gives him a good idea of why she’s more turned on than before.

“God, I can smell your cunt from here.” He spreads her legs and dips in to lap at the dew collecting there. “Delicious as always. I could sit here and eat at you for hours.”

This time she moans, low and heady, and without a doubt, he knows exactly why.

Zatanna Zatara has a praise kink.

The grin on his face is one of victory, one of knowing that he has the upper hand over her at the moment. “And the way your ass fills my hands…” Slade trails his lips up her spine as he gropes at her cheeks before unclasping the clip of her bra. “Turn around for me.” She obeys, worrying at her lip. The scared look of prey is in her eyes, waiting for his next strike with exhilaration. “Drop the bra.”

She does so, her chest bare and nipples hard from the sudden cold; her breasts heaving from how hard she was breathing. He stands with both garments in hand, setting them over the towel rack along with his boxer briefs. As he turns, she kisses him again, sweet and soft, and as much as he loves her, he's not about to let her distract him. “Get in the shower,” He rasps, edging her over.

Another shiver racks her body, and Zatanna steps in, holding onto his arm until he follows. She moans again, this time from the water, and she arches to douse herself further. The noises coming out of her mouth rile him up and he presses her against the shower wall, grinding against her core. Their lips meet for but a few seconds before he decides to kiss down her neck, lapping at the few scratches along her shoulder, all the while slipping his hand down to play at her clit. Pulling back, he buries two fingers into her, assaulting the bundle of nerves until she's drenching his hand in juices and whimpering in his ear. “So wet for me. You coat my hand so nicely.” The pulses around his digits in response tell him exactly what she's feeling.

“This is torture,” She pants as he slows down, keening when he adds another finger inside.

“This is why you don't dare me, sweetheart.” Slade crooks his fingers and she arches into him, giving him free feast to her breasts. He nibbles at her nipple, tweaking it with his teeth and moving to suck at the underside until it leaves a beautiful purple bruise. “God, such perfect breasts.”

“Slade, it’s too much-”

Her words contradict her actions, hips undulating against his hand and voice cracking in ecstasy. “Should I stop?”

He doesn't want to push her, doesn't want to hurt her, and he gets his answer as she brings her hand to grip his neck, pulling him closer. “Don't you dare stop.” All he can focus on is her hand on his neck, squeezing ever so slight, and so he moves, enjoying the fuzzy rush of blood every time she chokes him from her orgasm.

The water is cold, almost freezing, and even after long, sensual kisses, her lips are almost blue. Without even looking, he turns the water off and pulls her out with him. There's never any space between them besides drying off; she keeps kissing and biting at him as she strokes his cock. “Damn it, woman,” He groans, gathering both of her hands in one of his and leading them to his bed.

As she lays down, he watches her with a craving, and her eyes light up, both terrified and excited. He settles between her legs, spreading them to gaze at her folds, engorged from his onslaught. A few caresses from his tongue against her bud and she's falling apart all over again, leaving her open for him to fuck her with his tongue. Nails scrape at his scalp and he hisses against her slit. It's another rough wave of pleasure as he rubs against her swollen spot and she's squirming underneath his hands, whimpers bubbling out of her mouth. He pulls up, licking at his lips as he watches her lay boneless, arms above her head, half-lidded eyes watching, waiting.

Slade kisses a trail up her stomach, stopping to give his earlier hickey more attention. After a minute of leaving a twin by its side, he decides to go back to her lips, their tongues entwining as he grinds against her slick cunt. He grins, nuzzling into her neck before whispering into her ear. “Look at how content you are, sprawled out for me to pleasure. You're fucking beautiful, love.”

Her hips spasm and he slips into her, drawing a moan out of them both. Slow is how he decides to proceed; slow and lazy thrusts that have her mewling and whimpering each time she comes; slow kisses that feel like molten lava underneath his skin; slowly whispered praises that make her twist and thrash, only to add fuel to the fire as the friction raises both of them higher to the peak. She gives him pleas to never let it end, demands for more, and whispers his name as a curse and blessing in the same breath. He’ll take anything and everything she'll give him; it won't stop him from making sure she's been thoroughly pleasured.

He smoothes her hair back, caressing down her chest with feather-light fingers as she shudders once more. Pressure starts building and he pulls out, a low and needy moan spilling from her mouth. Within a second, he's got three fingers in her again, an relentless force against her bundle of nerves, and at last, she screams in rapture, eyes screwed shut, sheets bunched in her hand.

He kisses from her navel to her heart and rests there for a minute, listening to her pulse slow as she falls asleep with the hint of a smile. Covering them, he kisses her forehead before pulling her close and following her to rest.

* * *

There's shifting in his arms and he wakes to her looking up at him with that cupid smile. She dances her fingers along what scarring isn't hidden by his eyepatch. “Is this how you're going to wake me up every day?” Slade asks in a teasing tone.

“If you'll wake up, yes.”

He laughs, moving to kiss her lips. It's soothing, like the sun coming out from the cloud, and he keeps kissing her until he can see all the stress drained from her. “Come on, let's get a shower.” She nods in response as he slides out of bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches her try to get up, only to brace herself against the nightstand. “I thought you healed your ankle last night,” He says, trying to bite back his smirk.

Zatanna shoots him a glare. “I did, but someone fucked me like an animal.”

Slade can't hide it, grinning as he asks, “Do you need help?”

Holding her arm out, she sighs in defeat, and he scoops her up into his hold again. She wraps her arms around his neck and it pulls at his heartstrings as she snuggles into his chest. “I could get used to this,” She murmurs.

In response, he kisses her temple and steps once again into the shower, turning it on as he sets her down, still keeping her in arm. He finds her soap-lavender and sandalwood-and lathers her up, sensual touches not meant to turn her on but relax and soothe her.

As he's rinsing her, she makes a sound and he pauses. “Is something wrong?”

Zatanna lets out a long breath. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

Slade finishes washing away the soap and hangs up the shower head before turning back to her. “I meant _every_ word I said.” He cups her face, brushing away drops that he knows isn't water. “I have never met anyone like you, and you are one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

Zatanna bites her lip, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I...uhm…” There's another pause as she fidgets with a lock of her hair. “I love you.”

He smiles. “I love you too.”

“No, I'm in love with you. Like, ‘spend the rest of my life with you’ in love.” She peers up, afraid of how he answers.

Slade thinks for a second, tilting his head. “I didn't know there was a difference.”

Zatanna’s eyes light up. “You mean…”

“You've made me a hopeless romantic, Zatanna Zatara, and I'm damn well in love with you.”

She peppers him in kisses, mouth never leaving skin as she leaves trails all over. He loses himself in the feeling, savoring it. She brushes against nerves and he shudders, and to his dismay, all of the attention makes his cock harden. She steps back to look down, lips pursing, and her eyes look up at him. “You didn't come last night, did you?”

“I'm fine, Zee,” He sighs, stuttering as she grips him in her hand.

The sweet smile on her face is a lie; behind it is a vicious leer. “I can tell the difference between when you're interested and when you're neglected.” As she speaks, she lathers up his cock with her soap. “You're almost needy at this point.”

There's no time for him to protest; she slips him between her thighs and closes them, rubbing back and forth along his cock. He grits his teeth, leaning against the wall. “Zee, fuck-”

Her hand flies up to his throat and she's choking him again, hand tighter this time. “Don't think I didn't see the look in your eye last night. Now, you're going to come for me, understood?”

He nods, feeling drunk from the reduced oxygen, and slides his hands down to grab her hips and thrust between her thighs, relishing the slickness of the soap on her skin. Her giggles and gasps in his ear make him growl and she squeezes tighter. The pressure makes him shatter, and her hand pulls back as she kisses him, letting him get air as he needs it.

“You'll be the death of me,” He says as he turns off the water.

“If I am, I'll just pull you back and kill you for dying.”

Slade pulls her out with him, drying them off with the towel. As he's drying her hair, she smiles, and it's enough for his heart to stop beating for a few moments. This is a life he could get used to. Equal parts domestic, equal parts action, and a beautiful and lovable woman at his side.

Definitely something he could get used to.

* * *

As Zatanna sits down at her table  and Slade makes coffee in their operations room in the garage, Rose comes up to Zatanna, looking annoyed. “British guy came to see you. He's kind of a dick.”

Zatanna groans, resting her head against the desk. “Is he still here?”

“Yeah, won't leave until he talks to you.”

She waits, taking deep breaths before looking up. “Alright, bring him in.”

After Rose leaves, she turns to look at Slade. “Play nice,” She warns.

He holds his hand up in defense as he stirs creamer into his coffee. “Alright, I'll play nice.”

As Slade pulls his chair out, Rose returns with a rather attractive man wearing a long trenchcoat. “There you are!” The man huffs. “Your little assistant here has been keeping you from me.”

Rose’s eyebrows furrow and Slade clicks his tongue so quiet no one hears but his daughter.

Strike one.

Zatanna sends Slade another warning look and he shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Sorry, I've been preoccupied,” She explains, sorting through papers. “What do you want, John?”

His suspicions are confirmed; this indeed is the legendary John Constantine, and while Slade is very confident that Zatanna isn't smitten with Constantine, he learned long ago the look of a man who believed the woman he was talking to wanted him.

Slade can see it right now.

“I've been meaning to talk to you. There's been…” Slade watches as Constantine tries not to make eye contact with him. “Rumors.”

Zatanna looks up, annoyed by Constantine. “And?”

Constantine closes his eyes and scrubs at his face before sighing. “May I talk to you?”

Zatanna waved her hand, waiting for him talk.

“Alone,” He grits out.

“We’re fine where we are,” She says, both posture and tone flippant.

“I’d rather not talk in front of them.”

It's not a strike, but damn near close to one. “We’ll just leave the room, then,” Rose says sweetly, and Slade can hear the daggers being sharpened in her voice. He gets up with Rose and follows her into the armory. As he shuts the door, Rose has a big smile on her face. “He seems nice.”

“Rose-”

“ _Definitely_ boyfriend material.”

“Rose, please-”

“A total fucking catch-” She dissolves into a fit of giggles. “I'm sorry, it's just so sad watching you try not to punch his face because I just want you to break his teeth in.”

He's about to reply, but Constantine’s voice thunders through the door. “Your father’s gone, Zee! Wake up and face the facts!”

Slade runs his tongue over his teeth and holds up two fingers. Rose raises her eyebrows as Constantine quiets down, only for him to shout, “No, Zee, you'd be better off with me!”

Rose’s right eye starts twitching, and Slade decides that throws him way past strike three. He opens the door to Zatanna leaning against the desk, magic wand to Constantine’s neck. He backs away and she tries to follow but stumbles.

“Are you okay?”

She rights herself and waves him off. “I'm fine."

“I’d heard through the grapevine you were hurt.” Constantine glares at Slade as the latter reaches for his coffee. “This is your fault, isn't it?”

Rose starts to say something, but Slade waves her off. “Sort of,” He replies. “You could say there were two Ravagers here last night.” It's then that he chooses to chase his words down with his coffee, staring the Brit down.

Constantine snaps his mouth shut, seething in his eyes. He turns to look at Zatanna. “I'll keep in touch,” He hisses before storming out of the office.

Zatanna turns and Slade knows he's going to pay for it later from the fire in her eyes. “I'm going to go soak my legs in some herbs and see if I can stop this. No,” She grumbles. “I don't need help, Slade.”

As she goes into the house, Rose turns to Slade, hands in a praying stance to her mouth. “I don't know whether to be mad that you're so goddamn extra and I had to hear about your sex life or be impressed you're so goddamn savage and will wreck anyone for your girlfriend.”

“Where do you think you get it from?” He replies.

She stands there for a second then makes a face of “well, that does make sense”. The door opens from the street without an alarm and a boy in a beanie shakes off the light snow outside from his purple jacket before beaming at them.

With a shriek of “Joey!”, Rose launches herself at him, nearly hanging off her older brother like a spider monkey. “You totally missed Dad being savage as fuck.”

Joey looks at Slade, unconvinced, and signs “ _Is she telling the truth?_ ”

He shrugs in response. “According to her, I guess.”

 _“I guess I'd have to hear the whole story.”_ Joey shakes Rose on his arm. “ _I'm starving, haven't eaten since Gotham. Want some tikka masala?_ ”

“Oh, God, yes, I'll tell you the whole story while you're cooking.”

They leave him in silence, and if it wasn't for Zatanna’s earlier words playing in his head, the demons would be tearing at him. They're edging it, waiting for any insecurity to break in.

 _They won't find one,_ He promises himself.

And that's a promise he will keep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constantine is going to have good reason for acting like this, trust me. I love Constantine, but you'll see.  
> Also, yes, Rose is referring to the infamous handcuff incident between her and Tim Drake.


	3. a slave to magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's after a firefight with Merlyn's lackeys, and he's never felt more alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never enjoyed writing a chapter more than this one. Enjoy!

He feels like a god yet a mortal at the same time.

The bullets he’s pulling out of his chest pile up in the metal dish on the medical tray. Each round floods his ego with another rush inside his veins yet reminds him that he's not bulletproof, that death will catch up to everyone, even him. Rose sits across from him, watching and waiting to see if he’ll need her help.

“You never told me how you got dosed with mirakuru again,” She says, watching him ready the needle with steel thread.

He knows that the other Slade Wilson, the other Deathstroke, one of fifteen years in the future, one who turned Rose from an well trained yet mostly innocent girl to a cold assassin through drugs and torture, shared a lot of his past with her: Lian Yu, ASIS missions, a few memories here and there… He would’ve expected the mirakuru reintroduction to be one of those few memories.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” Slade asks, already knowing the answer, already knowing how he’d answer the question.

Rose smirks, lighting a cigarette. “Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.”

Just one more piece of evidence they’re father and daughter.

“So you know who Amanda Waller is?”

Rose shrugs. “The Wall. She’s a bit of a hardass, pissed Harley off a lot. Don't know much else.”

“She ended up getting hold of the mirakuru formula through reverse engineering the cure; same way S.T.A.R. Labs found the cure through the original formula.” He starts to sow up a rather deep cut on his ribs. “I was stuck with various formulas and cures until they found one that didn't make me homicidal every second.” He finishes the stitch, cutting the loose end. “The only downside is that the healing factor is diminished. Everything but this cut is going to heal up in a couple hours, sure, but I'm not going to be able to fight without feeling it. My nerve endings were almost dead before, now they're sharper and sensitive.”

“Is that the difference?” Rose holds up her hand, rubbing her fingers together. “I always theorized the original formula had so much more feeling; that _that_ was why you hated Oliver for driving the arrow through your eye.”

“It was the act mixed with my volatile emotional state that made me hate Oliver for so long.”

They sit there, her because she has so many more questions, him because he knows the answers. “What about Oliver and Thea on Lian Yu? You could've killed them then.”

He smiles, amused at his daughter’s words. “You really think so?”

“That's what you've always led me to believe.” The belief is written on her face, and it's both heartwarming and heartbreaking to see that she’s put him on such a high pedestal.

“Whether that's the case or not, I didn't.”

“Was it because Merlyn told you not to?”

He freezes his clean up of the medical tray, and even though Rose is the one with precognitive abilities, he can already see what she's hinting at. A few second past and she tilts her head, impish smile on her face.

“Or was it because you couldn't hate him anymore?”

Slade sighs, wiping his hands in a rag. “You ask too many questions.”

“But I'm right; otherwise, why would I be here?” She stands, taking a long drag of her cigarette. “I ran from Deathstroke because I couldn't pull the trigger to kill Oliver, because I didn't believe in his views, his morals. If I didn't believe you've long stopped hating Oliver Queen, that the vengeance has died down since then, I wouldn't have pulled you from that cell on Lian Yu.”

“What is your point?” He snaps, impatient with her tiptoeing around the subject.

“Stop doubting yourself so much, yet don't let your pride get you in trouble.” She pulls the medical tray over and counts the leftover metal. “You took nine bullets in that firefight when you could've taken none.”

Slade narrows his eyes, stepping around to study her face. “Are you worried about me?”

“You ask too many questions,” She echoes before taking another drag. After a long exhale, she tilts her head down. “Yes, I'm very worried about you.”

The pedestal’s shaking then, and he needs to learn to stop taking such risks. But how? How does one stop such a lifelong addiction with risk taking and adrenaline? It's been a long time since he thought about the repercussions of his actions in a fight, about whether or not someone would miss him if he died. He hasn't taken the time as of late to think about it, too focused on finding traces of either Bruce Wayne or John Zatara.

“Just…stop being so careless.” She fishes her phone out of her back pocket, face paling as she read something. “Hey, give me your phone.”

The tone in her voice is worried, but not life threatening worried, more ‘I'm about to get grounded’ worried. “Why?”

“Dad…” She looks at him, pleading with her eyes. Slade knows she only calls him ‘Dad’ when it means something. “Trust me.”

“Fine.” He hands it to her and she punches in the password before tapping a few times and handing it back.

He waves his hand, motioning for her to tell him what was going on. “Well, what was it?”

Rose winces, fidgeting with her phone. “Jonas may have sent you something meant for me.”

Slade narrows his eye, nostrils flaring. “Tell your boyfriend whatever he accidentally sends again, I'll cut off.”

She nods, booking it out as quick as she can. An overloaded Zatanna is almost pushed over as Rose flees, and she has to right herself to stop from papers from falling over. “What's going on there?” Zatanna asks, setting the books down on his desk.

“Jonas sent me a picture meant for Rose.”

“Ah.” She bends, pulling out a filing drawer. “The ever popular dick pic.”

“Told her I’d cut it off the next time he sent something like that to me.”

“A noble gesture,” She teases, pulling a few cases of ammo out of the drawer. “These are my father’s journals; I'm storing them here so we scan and annotate them in over the next few weeks.”

Some of the words make their way in his head, but he's too focused on how her ass sticks out even in yoga pants. The lace of her panties sticks out, a dark navy blue teasing the small of her back. “Uh-huh.”

She pauses, looking over her shoulder. “Slade?”

“Hmm?” He looks up at her, caught red-handed.

She shakes her head, smiling as she closes the drawer before turning her attention towards the ammo boxes. “Do you really need these anymore?” She asks, opening them, and time stops from his point of view.

After Rose broke him out of Lian Yu, there was one requirement that he had before he helped at all: to go back home to Parth. The house was long abandoned, but the two safe boxes were left untouched due to how hidden they were. One box held two pistols, a rifle, a few rounds of ammo, and one of his older combat machetes. The other box was a different story.

Adeline Kane was a very kinky woman; everyone could tell from her personality and behavior that she liked rough, and often, bruises on her neck were pinned on him, but little did people know about the scratches and bruises covered by long tees or about the light cuts along his abdomen. The safe box she held her toys in was still here, the only items he was interested in was a pair of rather strong handcuffs and a box that he took out of sentimental value.

In present time, Zatanna opens the box and freezes. Her hand runs over the faded chain and leather, turning to him with her mouth drawn in a tight line. “Was this…?”

“Old, from a past life.”

She closes the lid with effort, face void of emotion. “Follow me,” She says, voice sharp as steel. He has no choice but to follow, or risk getting cut down.

* * *

She closes the bedroom door behind him, and every bit of his intuition tells him to be afraid of the petite woman in the bedroom with him. The air is tense enough to cut through and she opens the box to pull out its contents.

The color has faded over the years, but it's still an embarrassing shade of pink even now. The links on the chain are a little worn from years of disuse. “Why is it this color? And why are these studs on the inside?”

“Humiliation and sadism,” He states. “The studs used to be sharper.”

She hums, setting it back inside. “And you kept it?”

Slade sighs, regretting his rash decision; it had been emotional rather than logical, and he couldn't explain why he did it, but he knew what he should've done.

He should've never grabbed that goddamn collar.

“Is it sentimental?”

“It was irrational.”

Zatanna tilts her head before she smiles. “But you liked it.”

Damn it. No one will ever catch him saying Zatanna Zatara isn't good. She knows what threads to pull, knows what threads to follow. As she comes forward, his intuition screams again for him to fear her. Her hand traces the skin above the stitches before coming up to tease his neck, grinning as he can't help but shiver.

“You still owe me from when Constantine visited.”

Slade swallows, anticipation mixing with his fear. “I do.”

“Are you okay with this?” She asks, and it throws him off.

Adeline never asked, she demanded. The collar wasn't something he was asked to put on, but rather came home to a command. Anything Adeline ever did, she did without consideration, but Zatanna is asking, seeking his permission.

“I am,” He whispers after a moment.

Zatanna turns back and takes the collar in hand again. “I'm not particular on this color, though.” Her whisper is a spell and with a red cloud of dust, the collar changes completely into onyx black. The studs are gone and the chain is replaced with a long strap of leather ending in a loop. “Much more fitting.” As she fastens it around his neck, she continues. “She treated you as weak, didn't she?”

“She liked to, yes.”

Zatanna jerks him down by the D-ring on the collar, smiling as if she knows a secret. “But being weak isn't a bad thing, and I'll show you why.”

As she kisses him, he closes his eye, losing himself to the softness of her lips and the feeling of her tongue dragging across his bottom lip before kissing her back. He feels her lips upturn more and he pulls back before noticing the room change.

The carpet changes into a deep burgundy and the color climbs along the walls as well, leaving a black lace pattern. Sconces form and light up around the patterns, giving the room a warm and sultry atmosphere. The bedsheets change to black lace on black silk, red flower petals scattered on the comforter. Her hand cups his cheek and turns his attention back to her, grinning as his eye roams her new attire of a purple corset, laced up with black ribbon, and black thigh highs that have the same pattern as on the wall. The corset only covers up to the underside of her breasts, pushing them up in a tantalizing position.

“No touching,” She hums, and he swallows thickly, throat constricting. With a spin of her heel, she pulls him to the bed by the leash, crawling back to give him room on the bed. “What's the word?”

Slade hasn't had time to think of a safe word, rather too busy being distracted by how her hair is braided and pinned aside and how her bangs frame her electric blue eyes.

“Sweetie?”

“Hmm? Sorry.” He thinks for a second, going through possible ideas. “Crown.”

“Crown?” He nods before he's pulled again by the leather strap, her hand sliding up the tight strip to grab the D-ring again. “You will refer to me as ‘mistress’. You will answer my questions with honesty, and say ‘yes, mistress’ or ‘no, mistress’.” She narrows her eyes before tugging his face close to hers. “When I say I want honesty, I do mean honesty. Got it?”

Her words go straight to his cock, half hard against denim jeans. “Yes, mistress.”

The white of her teeth flash and she pushes him back with her stiletto heel, there being just enough pressure to not cause any pain. “Please me, pet.”

“Yes, mistress.”

He settles between her legs, unzipping her boots at a painstakingly slow pace, kissing every inch of nylon-covered skin revealed. The sigh of bliss she lets out is a small reward, and he kisses down to her ankle before switching to the other leg, running his cheek against the fabric and letting it scratch along her skin. The moment he finishes, his hands rub into the pads of her feet, drawing out a low moan from her. All of her tension melts away, and only then does he start to kiss his way up her thighs, savoring the taste of her skin when he gets to the top of her stockings. He’s about to get his first taste of her wetness before she pulls him up by the leash. “Not yet,” She chides. “Work for it, pet. Make sure I'm dripping before you get a lick.”

Fuck, he's never heard her talk dirty like that and he's desperate to do as she wants, desperate to please her. The leash slackens, giving him room to pay attention to her breasts.

He starts by giving a tender kiss in the middle before veering right to lick up the slope. Her peaks are swollen from the cold, and he swirls his tongue around her areola before planting his lips and suckling at her nipple. A hiss is coaxed out of Zatanna, and her hands fly to push him in more.

Slade can feel his cock straining against rough fabric, and he catches himself from grinding against her leg. His hands roam, caressing down her hips and groping at her ass as he switches to the other breast. He knows every spot that fuels her fire, every touch that spurs her on; he's studied her body like an intel report, every point memorized and ready to be ravaged, but he holds back enough to frustrate her, to feel her frame trembling underneath his hands. Every kiss he leaves along her neck has her shuddering, arching into his hands for more. “May I eat you out now, mistress?” Slade rasps in her ear, knowing how much it affects her.

Her breath stutters before saying anything. “Yes, you may.”

She caresses his face before grasping his hair and shoving him down. Her aroma of her arousal hits him at her belly and he holds back from growling and devouring her. Instead, he takes a slow lick, savoring the flavor yet desperate for more. “Thank you for allowing me to taste you, mistress.”

He says it out of habit, too used to Adeline expecting appreciation for every pleasure she allowed, but slowly realizes he means it. If Slade’s going to be honest, he's never enjoyed eating out a woman until Zatanna, even with Lili. Every relationship he's had with a woman has never been about giving, but rather taking. But with Zatanna, there's no want to take, only a need to give.

Her thumb swipes along his lips, and he looks up to see a frisky grin on her lips. “You're welcome, pet.”

He kisses the palm of her hand before turning attention to her clit, teasing it with quick flicks of his tongue to drive her into a frenzy as he buries two fingers inside of her. Her moans are loud and wanton as he laps up her essence. Both of his hands grip the back of her thighs so he can spread her lips with his thumbs and dip his tongue deeper, keeping him from relieving the pressure on his cock.

The music of her whimpers and mewls doesn't sate his hunger, and neither does drinking her dew like a parched man in the desert, but he continues, savoring every shiver and moan that she gives, every orgasm giving him a rush of pride that he can follow her directions.

“Stop.” It’s shaky, but her lips are still able to form the words, and he obeys, looking up to wait for her next word. With a pull of his chain, she has him kissing her again, licking away at the juices on his lips. “Get on your back.” They're like liquid, switching positions as if they're water. The leash is still in her hand, leather taut even as he's relaxed. “Do you trust me?”

It's a loaded question to ask, but he knows it's in her nature to do so, even if she knows the answer to the question. The very fact that he's under her collar and chain is evidence that he trusts her.

“Yes.”

Slade trusts Zatanna with his whole entire being.

With a small smile, she undoes the button of his pants, peeling off the denim and boxers. Her hands run down his legs to his knees, pushing them up until his feet are flat against the mattress. Her fingers dance along his cock, precum pearled at the head, and he bites down on his lip to stop from making noise. She sighs and slackens the leash. “Don't hide from me, please?”

He bristles at the idea, not used to it. “Why?”

“I like hearing you moan.” Her thumb swipes the precum away, tongue dancing to lick it off. Her eyes dart up, cold glare chilling him. “Would you disobey an order?”

“No, mistress.”

“Then let me hear what I do to you.”

Her lips wrap around his cock and he groans, resisting the urge to buck his hips into her mouth. A melodic giggle sounds from her before she slides further down, her heat of her mouth scorching him with pleasure. The littlest amount of suction makes him clench the covers, whispered curses his only answer.

The feeling of something cold slipping down his ass startles him, only soothed by the feeling of her hand tracing pattern on his hip. _Relax, trust me,_ She thinks to him, and the mental connection quells his nervousness. The feeling of a finger sliding into him is counterbalanced by the feeling of his cock being swallowed down whole. She pauses before adding another finger. _You've done this before._

It's a statement, not a question, and he groans as she brushes against a particular spot. “A story for another time.”

_You'll tell me now or I stop._

It's a hard bargain and he can barely think with how much pleasure she's giving, but he obeys. “Back in the old days, nights got difficult sometimes-oh, _fucking Christ_ -and in order to stay warm, Wintergreen and I would have to use our body heat. It got pretty heated one night and-oh God, _Zee, right there_ -we ended up fucking each other until dawn.”

With another digit added, she crooks her fingers and he arches his back, jolts of ecstasy shooting through his system. _That's been over seven years ago since._

“I didn't exactly stop after that night.”

With a wet pop, her mouth leaves his cock and she tugs the leash, pulling him to his elbows and sealing their lips together. Her fingers curl inside him, stars exploding behind closed eye as she assaults his prostate. Every cry he lets out she takes with greed, nibbling and sucking at his lips until they're swollen from the attention. The twisting pressure builds up, a pain-pleasure hybrid that makes every nerve electrified. “Mistress-”

“Come for me, pet.” Her finger hooks around the D-ring of the collar again, cutting off any air to his lungs. His cock throbs through the dry orgasm and leaks precum, desperate for more. “Good pet,” She hums, caressing down his cheek as she gives the leash slack. “You did so good.”

He whines as she withdraws her fingers, missing the feeling of being filled. “T-thank you, mistress.”

“We’re not done yet, though.” But he can hear the question: _Are you okay to keep going?_

Slade kisses her wrist, lips lingering before looking up. “Anything for you, mistress.”

Zatanna’s breath stutters for a beat before she kisses him with great possession as she straddles him, lowering herself down into his cock at a torturous pace. She whispers spells underneath her breath and the feeling of something sliding into him coaxes a hoarse breathe out of him, filling him in a way he's never felt. Her hips rock and so does the enchantment, and he's eager for each slow thrust on his cock and in his ass.

“Grab my hips,” She commands, and his hands fly to hold them, rubbing his thumbs along the creamy curves. Leaning over, Zatanna kisses along his neck, hot breath teasing him. “Now move me, pet.”

He lifts her, cock gliding in and out of her cunt, a frisson of ecstasy running through his veins that makes him moan shamelessly. It takes a few thrusts, but he's soon realizing every time he plunges into her, the enchantment matches the intensity and tempo. It doesn't take long for him to brutally fuck her, plump ass bouncing against his thighs, her whimpers and screams adding to his arousal. Slick dew covers his thighs, increasing amount with each snap of his hips. His dick twitches, oversensitive from stimulation.

Zatanna bends to kiss him, ragged pants falling from her lips. “From behind, pet,” She rasps, eyes feral from rapture. As he rolls her over, she ranks on the leash, teeth knocking together as her tongue dominates his before pushing him back.

It's nothing for him to slip in and Zatanna pulls again, making him drape himself over her with slow and fluid thrusts that's akin to hot coals in his bloodstream. Sloppy kisses are pressed against his lips, coupled with mumbled curses and earnest praises. The ghost of the enchantment mimics him, echoing his own pounds into her. His breathing is ragged from the tight ball of need in his lower abdomen, craving release.

Zatanna notices, snapping her hips up to meet him. “Come for me, pet. Let me feel you.”

She doesn't need to tell him twice; he slides his thumb against her clit, riding out his peak as she convulses around his cock. They kiss again, sweet and soft, and he moves to the side, both of them gasping slightly as he slips out. Her hands reach up and undo the collar, dropping it to the floor before cupping his face in her hands, pressing their foreheads together. “Slade?”

“Mm?” He's lost in memorizing the flushed pink of her cheeks, the swollen red of her lips, the crystalline blue of her eyes. “What is it?”

“You did good.” When he scoffs, she pouts. “I mean it. I didn't think you'd be able to do this.”

“Next time you propose something like that, I'll do it out of spite.” He pulls her into his chest, shaking his head with a smile. “I hate you.”

“Sure you do,” She says, playful sarcasm heavy on her tongue.

He tucks her under his head, holding her tight. “I love you, Zatanna.”

A long exhale blows out of her lips, the room changing back to its normal colors, her attire fading back to her casual wear. “I love you too… I was afraid I didn't do it right.”

“You did perfect, sweetheart.” He presses kisses to her cheek, driving the point home.

“Are you okay, though?”

The rush of feelings fills him, catching him off guard, and he sharply inhales as it fades. As he nuzzles into her neck, he finds himself calm, at peace for once in a long time. “I'm…okay.”

Zatanna would argue if it were any other situation, but she can sense the tranquility, sense something that she's never seen in him before except…

It clicks in her mind and she smiles knowingly, snuggling into his chest. “Guess we'll be doing things like this quite a bit.”

Slade chuckles, thinking the idea over before groaning at her hand wandering across his groin. “Dammit, Zee.”

She giggles as she straddles him again, teasing his half-hard cock with the curve of her ass. “What, can't do anything without the collar?”

With a snarl, he twists, pinning her to the bed. “I can show you just how much I can do without a collar.” The teasing smile on her lips dissolves into a moan as he nips and sucks at her neck, leaving love bites at her neck. His hands tease the waistband of her yoga pants before pulling them down along with her g-string. “I can show you exactly how much I can make you scream.”

His seed makes her slick still, an easy glide as she meets him halfway. The heel of her foot presses against his back, urging him to move. She's still sensitive, quivering at every little bit of friction that comes with the short, vicious slams, and he pushes her shirt up to roll her nipples between his digits, earning a hoarse cry from her lips. “Wrap your arms around me,” He growls, and she complies with a wild look in her eyes. His hands move from her breasts to her hips, lifting her from the bed and driving her onto him. She's like a vice around him, trying to milk his cock, and she's panting and sobbing against his neck in between licks and nips at his skin.

“Slade, fuck, babe, I’m going to-”

“Come for me, love,” He echoes. “Let me feel you.”

Zatanna falls apart in his arms, looking like a gorgeous wreck from bliss. A few more and he's following her, chasing it down together. She clings to him still, rubbing her face against his. “Had to calm you more. Had to make sure you weren't going to do something like you did earlier. If this replaces your adrenaline highs, I'll gladly do it.”

“At this rate, I won't need to for another year.” He rolls to the side, arms wrapped around her. “Are you done now?”

Her lips quirk up. “What, not ready for a third?”

“Sweetheart, I may have a short refractory period, but I'd rather not push it.” Slade looks down at her sweet smile, studying the sparkle in her eyes, before kissing her forehead out of love. “God, I'm lucky.”

“Mm, pretty cute, too,” Zatanna muses, tilting her head playfully.

He scoffs in response and stands up, slipping on a shirt after his pants.  “Come on, let's get those journals done.”

She slides off the bed, slipping back into her yoga pants. “All work and no play…”

Slade grabs her by the wrist and pulls her close, smirking. “What, that wasn't play?”

“That was a hell of a workout and you know it.”

* * *

He's on the third journal when Rose comes in, face trained perfectly neutral. “So, you were wrong.”

Slade perks up from transcribing, listening closely. They've long practiced code back and forth, a language only known to the two of them. If she had started out with ‘you were wrong’, he wouldn't be concerned, but there's a ‘so’ in there.

“Jonas was right about the rats. I've found four already.”

_Merlyn’s here with three others._

Slade bookmarks the journal, standing and stretching. “Well, tell Zee to get the traps set up.”

Rose nods, turning to head out after grabbing her swords. Closing out of the digital document, he pulls up the cameras, noting the blurs on the monitors. He puts markers on the four of them, labeling Merlyn under a red instead of a blue. As soon as he hits the update button, Slade’s strapping on one of the Fractal wrist monitors.

The Fractal is Joey’s proudest achievement, able via satellite to lock onto any single person, giving any information that is digitally recorded. CIA, ASIS, MI6… any government agency in the world is an open book, let alone social media and email sites. The ultimate black book, ran by a 3D monitor and hologram system, along with the functions of a computer and key system for their villa in Star City and for Shadowcrest in Gotham.

Rose already has hers built into her cybernetic eye, courtesy of Victor Stone, and Joey always has the next prototype strapped to his wrist.

That just leaves Zatanna.

He puts his Springfield Compact in his waistband and one of his combat machetes on his back before leaving the lab, activating the lockdown via Fractal. As he rounds the corner, the Fractal pops up a blue marker behind the wall to his left in the common room. Slade waits, watching as the marker edges closer to the entry connect the hall he was in and the common room. The League member comes around and Slade grabs them by the shoulder, ramming them against the wall face first before the body crumples to the floor. He remarks the person yellow and continues to head towards Zatanna's office upstairs.

Another blue marker flashes to yellow in the opposite corner of the villa, and Rose’s own marker is followed by the friendly green marker towards him. He checks on Merlyn, and watches as the red marker disappears from the front of the villa to Zatanna’s office. Cursing, he breaks into a sprint, flying down the hall. He hears Merlyn talking and stops, listening to his words.

“...only aiming to sound an idea off you.”

The door is cracked and Slade opens it with his foot to see Merlyn, bow in hand with an arrow nocked at Zatanna as she sits at her desk.

“How would you like to bring back the dead?”

Zatanna’s eyes flash in anger, and she's biting her tongue to hold back from spitting spells out. Slade knocks on the door and as Merlyn turns around, Slade drives his fist right into Merlyn’s face, blood covering his knuckles from the broken nose. By the time he hits the floor, Merlyn’s out cold.

Joey comes running in, baton in hand before he sheathes it. “ _Everything alright?_ ”

“Fine, I think,” Zatanna replies, getting up from her chair. She pads over and checks Merlyn’s body. “Nothing of importance.”

“Of course not.” Slade sighs before turning to Joey. “Get him to holding?”

“ _No problem._ ” Joey slings the body over his shoulder with ease. “ _I'm surprised he's not dead._ ” Slade gives Joey a look and Joey holds up his hand in defense. “ _Just saying. After what happened at Queen Manor, I wouldn't be surprised if he was._ ”

As he's leaving, Rose and Jonas enter, Rose covering her nose. “He dead?” Jonas asks and Joey shakes his head. “What the hell were they doing here?”

“He asked me about raising the dead.” Zatanna looks at Rose and Rose sighs, lowering her hand to reveal a broken nose as well.

“He must have found out about Jason,” Rose concludes, shaking her head. “He's wanting to know how he was raised.”

“If he finds out about the Pit being functional again, we’re going to have one pissed off Tommy Merlyn roaming the streets. I can promise you that much,” Jonas says, eyes darkening.

“And if Tommy gets raised, Oliver is going to not handle it well,” Slade adds.

“ _No one will,_ ” Joey signs, concern written in his face. “ _I'll gather the other three and lock them up, too. Maybe we'll find out what's really going on._ ”

“Guess it's a plan.” Rose grabs Jonas’ arm, looking up. “Talk to me.”

“I'm fine,” Jonas says gruffly.

Rose sighs, knowing better. “Come on.” She turns to Slade, lips tight. “Talk later?”

“Of course.” As the three leave, Slade pulls up a chair, sitting down and resting his head against his hand. Zatanna kisses his forehead, sitting in his lap as she presses his head into her chest.

“Everything will be okay.”

He looks up at her, wrapping his arms around her. “You sure?"

“Very sure.”

He squeezes her tight as she pets through his hair, and he believes her, believes that she'll make it better, believes that she'll help him make it better. Slade cups Zatanna’s face, bringing her down for a passionate kiss, losing himself in her in the calm before the storm.


	4. moon magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One minute she's cooking dinner, the next she's rushing down the stairs with fear for his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooo you don't know how many smut chapters I have on the back burner

The sound of a loud explosion draws Zatanna’s attention up from the dishes, and Ray comes stumbling out from the lab. “There was something…” He trails off, clutching his side that she just now notices is covered in blood.

“Go to the Waverider,” Zatanna urges, rushing over.

Ray nods. “Go check on Slade. I think he got hit too.”

Without any hesitation, she runs down the steps to the lab, heart thumping in her chest in worry. “ _Thgil no_ ,” She says, and the starorbs light up softly, illuminating a glow on the wreckage.

The lab is destroyed, metaphorically at least. There's herbs and plants all across the floor, covering books of varying origin. Zatanna skirts around the table, gasping when she sees his leg sticking out from behind another. “Oh no,” She breathes, darting forward to check on him. “Slade?” She presses her fingers against his pulse, feeling it nearly vibrating underneath, and when she tries to tilt his head, she's shoved into the ground, hand around her neck. He's staring down at her, a completely different person, face set in a stony glare.

“Slade?”

A low growl rumbles from his throat and he moves the hand on her neck up to cup her cheek, roughly rubbing his thumb against her lips. She closes her eyes, trying to keep herself together when she feels his lips against hers, demanding  and conquering. This isn't him; rather, this isn't a cognitive him, running on instinct and something that seems inhuman.

The very thought makes her panic, and she slips out from underneath him and against the desk. His eyesight slowly trails to her, following her path over with a smoldering glare. Zatanna looks around, trying to find the catalyst of this manner. A vial is spilt, shimmering purple pooling out, and her suspicion is confirmed when she picks it up with care and sees ‘lycania’ on the label. Her phone is already in her hand and she quickly calls the best person she knows about werewolf essence.

“Hello,” Bigby drawls, followed by a drag of a cigarette.

“Hey, Bigby, do you know what happens when pure lycania gets on the skin?”

Slade snarls, edging closer to her, and she crawls underneath the long table, snaking between legs to put as much distance from him as possible.

“Damn. Did you get it washed off?”

“It's not on me.” Zatanna looks up to see moonlight and starorb casting shadows across Slade’s eyepatch, revealing the predatory glower etched into his face, and she curses herself mentally as she starts to rub her legs together, shoving dirty thoughts aside.

“Is it on your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

Another growl comes out, low and primal. His brow is knitted together and his hand is clenching a leg of the table rather tightly.

A hearty chuckle passes through the speaker. “I hope you're ready to not walk for a week.”

Zatanna takes a few second to process Bigby’s words. “Wait, what?”

“There's no way of flushing it out, and when it comes to wolves and mates, it's an all night event-”

“I cannot believe we are having this discussion right now,” Zatanna gripes. “There's no way whatsoever to sidestep this?”

“Unless you want to torture the poor man and have him destroy the fucking room, no.”

Zatanna lowers the phone, staring at her paramour with conflicted feelings. It's not sound, not right for this to happen, but on the other hand, it's a hell of a turn on to see him so animalistic, so unhinged. When she presses it against her ear again, it's with only one more question to help her decide. “Is the way he's acting all due to the lycania?”

Bigby scoffs. “Like hell. Lycania is just an enhancer. If I were to reckon anything, there's a lot of pent up energy behind this. Don't overthink it, just enjoy it.”

She drops the phone after the hang up, the sound of it clattering on the ground as she stares into his now golden iris. His lips are parted, showing the way his teeth are clenched in anger. “Stop it,” Zatanna says, voice wavering. Slade softens to her surprise, raising an eyebrow at her words. Well, maybe he does have more sentience right now than she originally thought. Bolstered by the idea, she continues on. “Back up so I can get out.”

He follows her instruction, leaning back on his haunches so she has more room. When she finally wriggles out, he's studying her with very keen eye. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

He pulls her flush against him and nuzzles into her neck, fumbling with the buttons of her shirt in his drugged state before ripping it open. She almost dares to say something but stops; even if he is listening, she doubts that he'd care about her disapproval of how he's treating her clothes. She whispers an enchantment on the door as an afterthought in case someone decides to come back and check her on them; she’d rather not have anyone see her splayed out on a table as he pounds her. Slipping the scraps of her blouse off, he kisses at her belly, laying her back as he trails down and slips off her slacks and panties to nose at her clit. It doesn't register how aroused she is until the spikes of pleasure spiral through her, making her moan. A deep growl is his verbal reply, and planting his lips to her clit is his physical reply. His tongue rubs along her lips, making obscene sounds as he licks away any trace of her essence and digs in, devouring every inch of her cunt as he takes his time to feast on her. It’s methodical and carnal, a beast that’s hungry for everything she has. She can feel from the way that his hands squeeze her thighs that he’s going to be ravaging her tonight, taking everything that he can. She’s shocked as a fierce orgasm sneaks up on her as she’s lost in her thoughts. Through the aftershock, Slade slings her into his arms and lays her out on the table, snapping her bra off and throwing it to the side before leaning down to kiss her again. It's rough and devouring in a way he's never been before; he's always gentle and thoughtful, trying to make sure he doesn't leaves bruises unless they're love bites. This, though… this is more what she thought he would be like: animalistic, dominating, possessive. It's what she's wanted for a long time but she's never been able to say it aloud; to think that it's something he's been hiding makes her frustrated yet even more excited.

His hands pin her hips down, mouth trailing down and leaving nips along her stomach that singe her very nerves. Lips brush against her clit again in a knowing tease before he dives into her cunt, hungry once more for everything she's got. Broad laps turn into quick licks as he slides in a finger to coax more of her essence out. It's an onslaught of pure, unfiltered ecstasy, and all she can do is writhe and squirm against his unyielding hand.

Without any warning, she unravels, coming undone against his lips. Everything is blurred, sizzles of static flashing behind her eyes. When she can finally open them, he's stripped down, giving her a wolfish grin as he slings her legs over his shoulders. This is different, so different, and she can't argue that it's not one of their best rounds of sex, especially as he pins her to the table by her neck, cock pushing into the core.

The rhythm is fierce, railing into her so hard, she would probably slide across the table if he wasn't holding her so tightly. Stars explode behind her eyes as he keeps pounding right where he needs to. With an angry growl, his hand grabs her chin and holds it in place, forcing her to make eye contact.

Dominance. That’s what this is all about. He’s asserting dominance over her, making her know who’s in charge. She almost wants to try to fight for top, but she relents; whatever gets him through this easier is what she’ll do. Besides, she can’t help but to enjoy being submissive for once, can’t help but to love how his hands grip her hips so tight and how he suckles at her neck over and over and how he looks at her so possessively, like he’s about to kill anyone to have her.

Her back arches from the pleasure, angling herself up. It's not to his liking, as he snarls and pulls back, moving his hand down to flip her onto her stomach. She gasps from the action, body trembling in anticipation.

Slade moves up her back, breath ghosting over her skin before sinking his teeth into her shoulder, slamming into her. As he takes her from behind, his grip on her skin tightens; it'll bruise, but it'll be a lovely bruise, the kind that the sight of them will make her soaking wet from just the thought. The sounds out of his lips, hot pants and carnal rasps, peak her arousal, and her walls clench around his cock, gripping him in a violent climax. It's good, so fucking amazing, as he presses his forehead into her shoulder, shuddering when he comes in her, every throb of his cock like an earthquake traveling through her body.

Zatanna slumps on the table, shivering from the remaining pleasure that echoes through. Her hair sticks to her neck from the sweat glistening on her skin, and she draws in staggered breaths that make her shiver even more. As she slowly comes back to surface, she starts to move up, only to be shoved back down with a threatening growl, and Bigby’s words play in her head again.

_It's an all night event._

“At least get us somewhere comfortable,” She grumbles. Once again, to her surprise, he backs up, stalking towards the couch. When she rises up, he turns his head sharply, eyeing her fiercely. “Calm down. I'm not going anywhere.”

It's comical when he huffs out a breath, grabbing the cushions and blankets off of her couch and laying them out into the form of a nest. As soon as she steps near it, he grabs her and lowers her down in a rush. Zatanna props herself onto her elbows, coming face to face with him as he crouches, eye glowing with a look of possessive fondness.

The next kiss is so soft, so loving. Molten lava flows through her veins, breaking apart as his hands caress up her side. He presses into her again, a slow pace that makes her desperate. She's about to push her heel into him but he nips at her neck, sensing her impatience. He's fully seated when he nuzzles her cheek, whispering something so low, she almost doesn't catch it.

_Mate._

Pinpricks of raw emotion spot her heart like stars as she cups his cheek, watching as he leans into it, kissing her palm. To see how he feels for her, even at the most basic instinct, makes her heart twist into complex shapes. Slade pulls her close, pressing kiss after kiss into her neck as he rocks into her in an intimate passion. Their breathing is in sync, bodies pressed so tight together she can feel his heartbeat thrumming along his skin. A hand is carding through her hair, the other clenching the fabric under them and she realizes he's having to hold back to be slow. He's trying his damndest to not pound into her again, and it pulls at her heartstrings. A burn starts at her belly, the need for more of him a demanding feeling. He presses his forehead to hers, building up speed until the slow burn sparks and she lets out a small cry as she falls over the edge.

He stills until she opens her eyes, staring up at him half dazed, lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. All it takes is a blink and she’s looking down at him from above. The position makes her sink down farther and her eyes widen, a broken moan bubbling out of her throat. It takes her a few seconds to start moving, but when she does, they’re both gasping and panting as he guides her up and down.

Everything is sensitive, nerve endings alive as she squeezes around him tightly. Slade shifts, driving in even deeper, and she loses control, loses her sense of gravity, collapsing onto him. He growls, softer than before, wrapping his arms around and thrusting into her, spearing her folds with his cock.

It’s never ending euphoria, her cheek pressed into his chest as he ruts into her. His heart is beating hard, faster than it usually does, and it only worries her for a second before he noses into her hair, grinning absently. If he’s in pain, he doesn’t seem to care. _Though,_ Zatanna thinks wryly, _Slade usually doesn’t care anyways._

The pace picks up, chaining her orgasms together in an almost torturous pleasure. She squirms, the overstimulation almost making her scream as she begs him to stop, to finish, because it’s just too much for her to handle how much ecstasy is pumping through her veins. His hands squeeze her ass and the rhythm stutters, the pulsing of him filling her being the only thing she can focus on. They flip again, and he kisses her like he’s starving, like he hasn’t been able to kiss her for centuries.

It continues on for what feels like hours. The blankets are soaked underneath her, yet he continues to coax more out of her, kissing all over every time she comes. Every touch and any friction makes her whine for more, legs falling farther apart and hips lifting in angle.

A hard jerk into her makes her scream, head thrown back as she breaks again. His composure is dropping with each climax, each time she shouts his name in a plea for it to finish and a prayer for him to never stop. He lets out another growl, this time needy and pleading. His thrusts are jerky and out of tempo, and his brow knits together again, this time from effort.

“It's okay,” She whispers, voice hoarse from all of the noises she’s made. “Let go. I've got you.”

Slade lets out a frustrated groan, pressing kisses against her temple. The speed picks up with sharp and hard thrusts but she can feel the difference between this and the table. He's more open, more relaxed, and when she whispers ‘I love you’, he lets out a strangled moan that echoes back the sentimentality.

His breathing is ragged, panting with every thrust. He's close, but his lips press together in a way that she knows he can't seem to find a way. There are a few ideas swimming in her head, things she knows are commonplace for werewolves. Even though she knows it's an impossibility, the words dance on the tip of her tongue, and when he whines again, she takes his face in her hands so he'll look at her. “Mark me. Breed me. Fill me full.”

His pupil is full blown as she speaks and he snarls as he snaps his hips into her, latching on the patch of skin he bit at earlier. It's too much, and all she can do is let out a choked scream as she convulses around him. With a stutter, he buries himself into her, seed spilling into her as he gives her a deep kiss. He lingers, still drinking in her kiss, before rolling off, pulling her into his chest and throwing a blanket over them.

“ _Mid_ ,” Zatanna mumbles, and the starorbs go out, extinguishing slowly until they're barely lit. She can make out his face in the bare light, eye closed and looking peaceful as ever. When she tries to move away, however, Slade rumbles, pulling her back tightly to him. It's hard for her to sleep knowing he's like this, and when they wake tomorrow, she prays that he forgives her for it.

* * *

The tides of consciousness ebb and flow before she fully wakes up, eyes opening to the sun shining on the wreckage. Yawning, Zatanna turns her head to see Slade sitting next to her, watching her as she rested. “Hey, you,” She whispers, lips curving into a smile before she can ever think about it as she reaches for his hand.

He frowns in response, pulling his hand away.

“Right,” She murmurs, guilt settling. “I’m sorry that I did that last night, I didn’t really take into consider-”

“Why are you sorry?” She blinks up at him and he shakes his head. “You’re not the one to be sorry in this, Zatanna,” Slade mutters.  

He blames himself; that much is obvious, and the idea of it makes her groan in frustration. “How much do you remember?”

“Dr. Palmer was mixing ingredients. There was an explosion. Enough after that,” He says, trying to separate himself from her, sighing when she doesn’t let go of her hold on him. “Zatanna…”

She sits up, untangling herself from him anyways. “Why are you the one acting like you did something wrong?”

“Because I did,” He says, giving her a worried look. “Zatanna, look at your skin.”

She does, blinking in surprise at how many spots are bruised on her skin. A poke to them yields no pain, and she looks back up to his pained grimace. “I’m not sore, it doesn’t hurt,” She assures him. “It’s quite nice.”

He groans, pressing against the bridge of his nose. “Only you would say that they’re nice.”

Zatanna huffs. “Listen, you. I’m more concerned about what I did over what you did.”

He shakes his head in irritation. “Yes, you helping me through some kind of violent fever is worse than what I did to you.”

“It’s not like you could push me away.”

He looks away to avoid her. “It’s not like I wanted to.”

It takes a second to process and then she crawls closer to him. “Are you saying you had some control over last night?”

“I’m saying that I should’ve tried harder to stop myself last night and-”

She doesn’t let him say anymore, instead pulling him into a kiss. “I don’t regret last night as long as you don’t,” She says, cupping his cheek. “I really don’t.”

He studied her, searching for any falsehood. “You promise?”

“With all my love,” She assures him.

His lips twitch upwards. “It… was nice,” He finally admits.

She tumbles into his lap, smiling up at him. “I agree. Very nice.” She props her chin on his shoulder, looking up at him with a sinful smirk. “Very fun.”

“Even with the roughness?”

“ _All_ of it was fun.” Zatanna presses a kiss to his cheek. “If you ever decide to let off steam like that again, I definitely wouldn’t mind.”

“Yes, you would,” He says adamantly.

She presses him back down, grinning like the cat who caught a mouse. “No, I really wouldn’t,” She whispers, dragging a nail down his neck and giggling when he groans in frustration.

“Zatanna…” He grunts, brow furrowed as she rocks her hips against his.

“We should have more nights like last night. Maybe I could join you in the backseat. See where we take each other on pure instinct.”

“For another day,” Slade whispers, pulling her down to give her a gentle kiss. “For now, let me love you as softly as I can.” His hands move and drag her down until his cock is parting her lips, filling her inch by inch until her toes are curling from the head brushing against her cervix. The heat and passion of it melts her inside, and she matches his movements in slow tempo, trailing kiss after kiss along his neck and shoulders. He buries his nose into her hair, breathing deeply as they fuck lazily in the morning sun. A particular thrust has her coming undone, her hands squeezing his arms as a wave of pleasure washes over her. As much as last night was something that satisfied her greatly, the softness of this is something that she can appreciate fully now as he runs his hands down her back lovingly. His romantic etiquette is something she’s always thought uncharacteristic, but as he continues to bury himself into her in a slow and powerful pace, it dawns on her that this is just how he is: protective and caring behind doors, never for anyone to see except for her. Perhaps he hides the monster he pretends to be when it’s between the two of them because it’s second nature.

Maybe, Zatanna thinks as she caresses his cheek and stares down at him, he’s just tired of being the monster.

With another kiss, she slides her hands down to entwine them with his. He stops, squeezing her hands as he maneuvers for a kiss. “I love you,” Slade confesses. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“And I love you. Even if you don’t believe it half the time.”

He smiles a bright smile that raises her spirit even more than she thought possible  before kissing her again, this time deep enough that she loses herself to him once more. “I’ll never doubt it again.” They continue like that, making love to each other like liquid. Her skin feels like the northern lights, shimmering magic that does nothing but make her feel like there’s no one other than them in the world. Zatanna forgets how many times she shatters, how many times she quivers and collapses into him only for the onslaught to continue. The hands along her sides tighten their grip, and he huffs out a groan. “Sweetheart, I’m close.”

She bends for one last kiss, and they both gasp as he shudders, flooding her with his cum. He presses his forehead against her, their breathing syncing up as they bask in each other for the moment. The feeling of tranquility settles in her, nested deep in her heart. “Just stay like this with me,” She whispers.

“I don’t have much choice,” He says with amusement. “You’re on top of me.”

They both smile before she cuddles into his shoulder, appreciating just how sweet he can be as he wraps his arms tightly around her.

* * *

Ray is wringing his hands nervously when he comes over later that day. “Hey, glad to see you’re doing okay.”

Slade says nothing, a fine improvement compared to what he would’ve done nine months ago, but the glare in his eye betrays what he keeps quiet as he reads up on lycanthropy.

“What exactly happened down there, Ray?” Zatanna gestures towards her lab, already cleaned up after her and Slade had dressed. “Slade barely remembers any of it.”

“I was mixing together something and thought that if I put together ignimon and flightwing together, I could make an alternate fuel.”

“Instead, you nearly blew off the goddamn roof,” Slade snarls as he looks up from his book.

“Slade,” Zatanna chides before turning back to Ray. “You should’ve asked. Ignimon is too violent and unstable to be mixed with anything that has to do with gravity. I guess we’re lucky you didn’t think to mix it with venleaf.”

“That would’ve been so much better!” Ray exclaims before reading the atmosphere. “Well, in theory, it would’ve been better. I’d, uh, probably be dead, though…”

Zatanna sighs and shakes her head. “Just… no more experimenting unless I’m there. Please.”

“Right. Probably for the best.” Ray taps his fingers together. “I just came by to check on the place. I’ve got to get back to the Waverider. Flag us down if you need us.”

“Of course.” Zatanna keeps her smile on until he leaves before it drops. “I need to stop letting people mess with my supplies.”

“Rachel was doing good the other day.”

Zatanna shoots him a look. “Rachel knows what she’s doing. On a good day when he’s sober, Johnny will still mess up a simple forget-me-all drink.”

Slade sets down his book, smug with her last comment. “And what about me?”

“I don’t mind. You try to follow the recipe book as much as possible, unlike the freestyle mixer that just left the loft.” Zatanna sits herself in his lap, manuevering so she doesn’t knock the book out of his hand. “But I do suggest you stay out of the lycania for awhile.”

Slade pecks her lips before grinning. “Smartass. You’re just saying that out of reverse psychology. It’s not going to work.”

As he wraps his arms around her to open his book, she snuggles into his chest. “Are you sure about that?”

Slade pauses his reading, looking just over his book to stare at the ground, trying to figure out what exactly she means. “Fuck, you’re difficult,” He mutters after a good few minutes. “But the upside is now you don’t know what I’ll do since I’m confused.”

“Maybe that was my plan to begin with.”

The tangled web of words she’s weaved so far hits its limit, and in one fluid motion, Slade sets the book down and throws her over his shoulder as he stands. “Alright, let’s go see what other fun aphrodisiacs we can mess with if you’re going to be like this. After all, we still have the month to ourselves.”

Zatanna’s face goes red, and as he casually squeezes her ass, a familiar heat pools in her groin as she gasps.

It’s going to be another rough night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @swingrlm, don't worry, your special request is being worked on ;3c

**Author's Note:**

> All I want is honesty <3


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